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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29255502">heaven help a fool (who falls in love)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrPearlGatsby/pseuds/DrPearlGatsby'>DrPearlGatsby</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Armitage Hux Has Feelings, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gingerflower, Gingerrose - Freeform, Light Angst, Rosehux</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:15:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,172</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29255502</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrPearlGatsby/pseuds/DrPearlGatsby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s surprised still by the continued small kindnesses they extend to him.</p><p>(In which Hux's quiet observation of a Resistance celebration is disrupted by a certain Major Tico.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Armitage Hux/Rose Tico</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>heaven help a fool (who falls in love)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by the sound and feel of "Ophelia" by The Lumineers (lyrics precede the body of the story).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Oh, Ophelia</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You've been on my mind girl like a drug</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oh, Ophelia</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Heaven help a fool who falls in love</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The music is rising up from the section of the clearing marked off as a makeshift stage, something hopeful with piano and tambourine and clapping hands. A group of Resistance members gathers near to the sound, their faces lighting up in recognition—men and women alike pushing away from their conversations and stashing their drinks atop stumps and boxes, hurrying to join. When the band starts singing, the gathered revelers begin a semi-coordinated dance, linking arms and other appendages and spinning in opposite directions, weaving their way between one another. Many of the revelers sing along, their voices rising up in something halfway resembling a melody and halfway resembling a shout.</p><p> </p><p>On this side of the bonfire, Hux is sufficiently far away so as not to attract attention, which is exactly as he prefers it. While many have taken his unlikely alliance as a positive step forward, he isn’t granted—nor does he expect—admittance into their social groups. War creates casualties in all directions; as Hux had grimly contacted the families of fallen First Order officers, insisting that their deaths at the hands of the Resistance had been worth the cause, he knows these people have done the same for families, soldiers, entire <em>planets</em> whose destruction he’s been largely responsible for.</p><p> </p><p>A mug of cider warms his hands—fragrant and sweet, almost too much for his taste, but another way to fend off the cold besides sitting near the fire. He’s surprised still by the continued small kindnesses they extend to him, gestures befitting a hodgepodge assemblage of rebels that would be absent in his usual strict military milieu—things like the mug of cider in his hands, served to him by an overenthusiastic twi’lek girl who had wanted to help her mother. Hux had looked up from the mug in surprise, catching the eyes of the older female just beyond—she’d only nodded, a watchful smile on her face. Things like the datapad he’s just been issued, a newer model, in spite of the fact that most of the crew uses much older tech. <em>It’s fine</em>, Major Tico had told him, waving away his surprise when he’d tried to trade his tech with her only to be refused. <em>You’ll do better work on a machine you’re used to. Besides, I’ve already hacked mine to run the new interface</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Now, Major Tico joins her comrades in the dance, stomping her feet rhythmically to the lyrics, putting extra <em>hip</em> into the movement and grinning openly at her friends on either side as they sing along. She’s at the edge of the group, just where Hux can see her, and the part of himself he pretends doesn’t exist thanks the stars for this chance to observe her there, celebratory and joyful.</p><p> </p><p>The first few months had been the most difficult—days infused with bitterness and self-defeat. Extracted from the side he’d betrayed, Hux had adjusted poorly to his new surroundings, more than once being banished to holding cells for behaving out of sheer spite. He’d come to blows with the traitor Stormtrooper, with various privates from devastated sectors, with too many men and even a fair number of women. It had felt like the Academy, like his father, like Ren; and the hardest lesson he’d learned—the frail General taking him aside, regarding him from a couch in her office, ignoring how blood dripped from a cut in his cheek onto her cream-colored antique chaise—was to put on humility. Hux still remembers how Leia had called upon Major Tico to escort him back to his quarters, how the Major had stared him down with venom in her eyes, how Leia had inclined her head toward the Major as if to say <em>this is your test</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Hux had never forgotten her, the little spitfire who had the audacity to <em>bite</em> him after he’d let her keep her pendant. Of course the goal had been not kindness but power—something, in retrospect, Hux imagines she had sussed out for herself. On the walk back to his quarters, Hux had learned that the Major was his new supervisor, that he was being transferred to her division. It was still a month more before he learned she’d been his contact, that she’d been the voice he’d spoken to all along.</p><p> </p><p>The song moves from the chorus to another verse, this one carrying a high note that rises up from the crowd in a great shout, and Major Tico raises a single hand as the note climbs, her eyes shut tight and mouth wide open in song. The stomping commences again and she links arms with a few more friends, disappearing briefly into the crowd and then emerging at another edge some time later. <em>Stomp stomp stomp</em>, the myriad of feet and appendages beat against the hard-packed dirt ground in boots new and worn, work pants and overalls and the colorful traditional costumes of their planets that they bring out only on special occasions.</p><p> </p><p>As the song begins to wind down, the formal part of the dance breaks apart. Everyone sways and claps, the lyrics falling away, and the blonde Commander—Connix, Hux remembers being her name—skips up behind Major Tico, surprising her by freeing her hair from where it’s pulled back. The thick black strands fall forward to frame her face and Tico whirls around in mock-outrage; Hux can just make out Connix laughing from this far away before she places her hands on Tico’s shoulders and spins her outward again. As Connix says something in Tico’s ear, Tico turns her face toward the bonfire, toward <em>him</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Hux is startled to realize that both women are looking directly at him, but his reflexes are a step behind. He tears his eyes away from them, looking at the rest of the crowd; but he can’t ignore the feeling that, in his peripheral vision, they still seem to be staring. He counts to five slowly before risking a glance back—at which point his gaze unavoidably snags on Tico’s. Her expression is quiet—a suggestion of a smile, a lingering look, and then she looks down and away.</p><p> </p><p>Hux drops his own gaze to the mug of cider, watching how the reflection of the bonfire flames dance on the surface of the liquid. His heart has leapt into his throat and he swallows hard against it, trying to calm the emotions that threaten him again. He tells himself that it’s just General Organa’s charge that led him to this—<em>friendship</em>? The word feels somehow distasteful, inaccurate; he’s not directly in Major Tico’s division any longer, but he’s clearly been assigned to her in some other capacity. She checks on him on a daily basis, frequently takes meals with him in the caf, wheedles until he agrees to make an appearance at social gatherings like this. And it makes sense—she knows him well enough from the year she was his handler. The most logical person for the job.</p><p> </p><p>The feelings that stir in him when she beckons him to her table, when she offers him tea or drops by his quarters in the evening on some made-up errand—he doesn’t let himself dwell on those. Ever. He doesn’t trace the scar on his finger and think of her pretty mouth, doesn’t wish for his old datapad full of their encoded messages, doesn’t dwell on her first name when he learns it. She is always Major Tico, not Rose. She is doing her job, performing a function—nothing more.</p><p> </p><p>Still, he’s rattled when he looks up and sees her rounding the bonfire towards him. The crowd has moved closer and closer to the band, so he’s nearly the only person this far away.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s no need to check in,” Hux calls out as she approaches.</p><p> </p><p>Major Tico frowns at his words but continues coming toward him, moving so far as to settle down beside him on the low bench. “Y’know, Hux,” she says, rubbing her hands together to warm her fingers against the cold, “our dances aren’t <em>that</em> hard. I could tutor you if you needed.” She turns a small, sarcastic smile on him, cocking her head to redirect some strands of hair from falling across her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Hux keeps his voice light, but there’s genuine annoyance underneath. “So dancing is on the General’s list?” If there’s one thing he feels he’s learned about the Resistance, it’s this refusal to call things what they are. He’s begun to confront her about this before—the way she seems to follow him around but then plays it off as nothing. He never gets anywhere with her.</p><p> </p><p>“‘List’—what <em>list</em>?” Tico smiles innocently, bumping his arm gently with her elbow.</p><p> </p><p>But Hux talks over her, his dry remarks already rehearsed in his head. “Couldn’t we just skip that item? I’ve acquired a hot beverage. I’ve socialized. Won’t that be enough?”</p><p> </p><p>“Enough for <em>what</em>?” She giggles, sounding almost flirtatious—though isn’t <em>that</em> an absurd thought.</p><p> </p><p>Hux looks back at his cup of cider as genuine anger rises up in him at her innocent attitude. “<em>I</em> don’t know. Whatever harebrained <em>rehabilitation</em> scheme you’ve been supervising. You’ve made a valiant effort, but I fear that extended time with me as your charge has forced you to forget how the general populace feels about my presence.” He hasn’t forgotten the blows he took, the blows he <em>landed</em> those first few months—even if she has.</p><p> </p><p>“Kriffing <em>stars</em>, Hux, I’m not—<em>assigned</em> to you! Is that what you think this is?” The Major has leapt to her feet and is standing in front of him, anger and frustration written all over her face.</p><p> </p><p><em>Of course that’s what it is</em>, he wants to say. But he’s having the hardest time catching his breath, like something has lodged in his throat. When he speaks, his voice is much smaller than he expects it will be. “What do you mean you’re not assigned to me?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s over,” she insists, “spy and handler, private and major, whatever. I’m not your boss. I’m not an emissary. I’m not the—the general’s kriffing… <em>Hux-</em>whisperer.” She throws her hands up in the air as she finishes, pausing for a long moment before dropping her hands and moving to take the seat beside him again. “<em>Kriff</em>,” she mutters, glancing up at him with a pinched, worried look.</p><p> </p><p>Hux feels strange, as if his stomach has dropped to his feet. Carefully, he sets the mug of cider onto the bench beside him. “Then,” he clears his throat, mortified at how uncertain his voice sounds, “then what are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“A woman,” Tico’s voice is quiet as she idly rubs her palms together, “enjoying the company of a man.”</p><p> </p><p>Hux can’t seem to catch his breath. His throat runs dry, and his face feels strangely hot. When his eyes begin to water he recognizes the sensation for what it is and fights it down immediately, closing his eyes hard against the irritation. “You forget how little I deserve friendship or,” he struggles to get the words out, his voice low and rough, “or whatever this is.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>You</em> seem to forget that I’m perfectly capable of making my own informed decisions. You’ve changed, General—” he looks at her sharply when she calls him by his former title, and her eyes sparkle a little, as if she’d known the effect it would have—“for the better. And you’re the only one who doesn’t see it.”</p><p> </p><p>Hux swallows, staring down at—at Rose. <em>Rose</em>, he names her, his mouth opening and closing without any words coming out. After a moment she looks away again, staring into the fire with an expression that seems almost embarrassed. <em>Lovely</em>. She is <em>lovely</em>, and his mind spins to reframe conversations, interactions, long meals and late-night talks in light of this new revelation.</p><p> </p><p>“Have I made a fool of myself?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not as severely as I have.” Hux reaches over and covers her small hands with one of his.</p><p> </p><p>Rose looks up into his face, and for a moment that’s all that passes between them—but then Rose’s hands move beneath his: one turns palm-up and catches his fingers while the other goes to cup his cheek. She kisses him matter-of-factly, pressing her lips against his in a moment that is at once life-altering and brief. When she pulls back, there’s a great mirth lurking behind her eyes, humor and something shockingly like adoration, and before Hux has a chance to say or do anything she’s standing, tugging on the hand she’s captured.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on,” she insists, smiling like the sun, “come dance with me,” and in her eyes is the promise of something more, a beginning.</p><p> </p><p>There is little else in the universe he wants more than to kiss her once again, little he won’t do to have the opportunity. “Yes,” he says, standing, feeling more than a little dazed. “Right. Of course.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had no less than eight in-progress Gingerrose fics languishing on my computer and thought it was high time I get one out. I was stuck on the title, so I just borrowed the song lyrics and added some unnecessary parentheses. (Voila, my brand!)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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